A Day for Mitsukake
by Appaku
Summary: COMPLETE: He's always taken such good care of everyone else, so it's time everyone return the favor when he catches a cold. But will they only make it worse?
1. A Cold in the Morning

**Author Fangirling:** Mitsukake needs SO much more love! All the attention he gets is for his hand, for his cat, or for his dead lover. Yet he roughhoused with his own priestess over food, can beat up zombies with his bare hands, and the emperor even bowed to him! It's time everyone start appreciating him more.

* * *

The day was stormy. Rain had been beating down mercilessly and wouldn't allow any sunlight through. The thunder was far off, though, letting the abundant water take the stage.

_It's just like the day the flood started_, Chichiri thought. He shook his head to shake away a few memories, while the resident healer thought the very same thing.

The day was also long. Between Tasuki burning Tamahome, Tasuki falling off the roof afterwards, and Miaka being underneath him having gone to Tamahome's aid, Mitsukake was bound to be tired out. He sneezed, and Tama-neko pawed at him, as if to say "Someone's talking about you."

"Perhaps someone is," he stroked his head. "I wonder who injured themselves this time?"

No one came running for him, so he turned off his light and waiting for tomorrow to be a sunnier day.

The next day was indeed sunny, but not for everyone. Tamahome sent stormy glares at the bandit from across the table.

"Jeez, you can't still be mad at me for playing around a little," Tasuki sent him an identical glare.

"I think you need to redefine 'a little', Tasuki," he smuggly replied. The bandit slammed his hands on the table and offered to do just that.

"What children," Nuriko tugged Tasuki back into his seat gently, which of course, was gentle enough to break the chair. "Keep that up and we'll have to put Mitsukake back to work on you guys."

"Speaking of," Chiriko set down his bowl. "Has anyone seen him this morning? He's awfully late for breakfast."

Everyone else at the table rolled their eyes back in their heads to try to recall anything. Miaka, though eager to get another helping of breakfast, grew concerned. "That's not like him. Should we go check on him?"

"If that's what you wish," Hotohori continued cutting into his food with regal grace. Sitting in front of him, even food had to look graceful. "I'll sent a servant right away-"

"No, it's alright, I'll go check on him!" chipperly offered the priestess. After all, he was one of her warriors and it was her to duty to take care of her warriors (though normally people would expect the reverse). She skipped down the halls with a very satisfied feeling in her tummy, figuring that he had just slept in a bit.

"Mii-tsuu-kaa-kee!" she sing-songed at his door. On the inside, Tama-neko heard her calling and pawed at his master's face with a small meow. Little did the cat expect to be thrown across the room by a pillow. Curious about the sound, Miaka opened the door to examine the little pile of cat against the wall. "Is everything okay in here?"

"Nnngh," he groaned and opened his eyes. "How bad is it?"

Miaka blinked. "How bad is what? We were just wondering when you were going to join us for breakfast."

"Breakfast. Right," he rubbed his eyes. "Go ahead, I'll be there in a few minutes."

"Your room is so stuffy," the priestess observed, and opened a window to let the sunshine is. She stretched happily. "Everything smells so nice and fresh after it rains."

"I can't smell anything," he replied, although trying to humor her. A loud sneeze caught her attention.

"Mitsukake?" she raised her eyebrows, and closed the window back up. "You okay?"

"Nnnmmmghh."

Instantaneously, her hand was against his forehead. "I see. You got a fever."

"Meowowow," Tama-neko chimed in, as if to say "well, that's obvious" or "ow, that hurt!".

"It's nothing much," he lightly pushed her hand away. "I'll be over it in--ahCHOOGH!"

"Ah… choogh?" Miaka's eyebrow wavered. "That didn't sound good at all. You should stay right here in bed."

"I can't do that," he protested. "I need to--"

"We'll all be alright!" she smiled."I'll bet you haven't spent a day in bed for years! You should take care of yourself instead of the rest of us today."

Mitsukake still felt he should protest, but smiled, very content with the idea. "I suppose you're right," he pulled his blankets back up over him and rolled to one side.

"Should I get you anything?"

"No, a little more sleep is all I need. Thank you."

"Okay, feel better," she smiled, and closed his door behind her. She couldn't but think that it was kind of cute- in an odd way- that the big doctor would get a little sick sometimes, too.

"Didja find 'im?" Tasuki asked upon her return to breakfast. She helped herself to the last bun- much to Chichiri's dismay, seeing as he was about to reach for it.

"He's a little under the weather today," she started eating happily, as Chichiri still has his hand out for it, whining a little.

"What weather?" Nuriko leaned back to look out the window, also very fond of the pleasant air outside.

"That's terrible," Hotohori laid down his utensils. "Should I get him a doctor?"

"That'd be a little weird, since he _is_ a doctor," pointed out Tamahome. "How did he seem to you, Miaka?"

"It's just a normal little cold, nothing to worry about," she replied. "I wonder how he got it?"

"Well," Chiriko felt the need to answer whatever question he could, even if an answer wasn't really necessary. "The weather wasn't very good to begin with yesterdauy, and if he was tired, that could have contributed.'

"Tired? Well why would he…"

Miaka, Tamahome, and Tasuki all fell very silent, remembering the fuss they made yesterday.

"_Ow! My arm, my arm! Get offa it!"_

"_My back! Gaaah!"_

"_My skin! I think it's falling off! Ow! Oooww!"_

"You all have guilty looks on your faces," Nuriko observed. Chichiri, in an unseen little form, was wavering his arms trying to catch the bun out of Miaka's hands.

"I guess we all take Mitsukake for granted sometimes," Miaka looked glumly at the ground, and subconsciously took another big bite. "After all those times he's saved our lifes, we just say 'thanks!' and that's it. It _does _make me feel sort of guilty." Having confessed that, she swallowed down the rest of the bun, much to Chichiri's dismay.

Hotohori, though he himself was never healed by Mitsukake, was guilty of yelling for him whenever someone was remotely injured. "We all should feel that way," he sighed, letting a few hairs fall in front of his face. "But what can we do about it? He's always so selfless and never calls any attention to his actions."

"That's simple!" Miaka perked back up. "We can all take care of him instead!"

Everyone agreed happily. "What a great idea!"

"We're so fortunate to have a priestess who'se so concerned about her warriors," Tamahome sent her a fond glance, which of course, made her blush. "Always so concerned about us all."

"Yeah na no da," Chichiri moaned as his stomach rumbled. "All of us."

"But today we'll _all_ take care of Mitsukake," Chiriko smiled. "He'll really appreciate this."

* * *

Yes, more to come. Share the Mits' love, everybody.

Oh, and in the Japanese culture, people say that when someone mentions you, you sneeze. Yay for all of you who already knew that, and yay for those who learned something new today.


	2. Breakfast in Bed

-1

"So what should we do first?" Nuriko queried. He wasn't all that fond of being a nurse, but helping another warrior were it was due wasn't a big problem for him.

"Well, he's still gotta be hungry no da," Chichiri replied, nursing the pangs in his own empty, bun-deprived stomach.

"You're right. Get a tray and we'll take some food to him," said Hotohori to no one in particular. "What foods are good for chasing away a cold?"

"Something with herbs?" Chiriko offered. He wasn't an expect, but he still knew a few that might help.

"Herbs… that should work," Tasuki agreed. "Hotohori, where's your spice cabinet?"

"When's the last time you think I've been in a kitchen?"

Considering herself the expert on food, Miaka was already piling up a tray. "There we go. Some hot stuff, some cold stuff, and everything in between. I'll go take this to him now--"

"No, no, no da! I'll do that," Chichiri dove for the tray. He knew Miaka meant well, but she could never realize when she was taking someone else's food. "It's probably pretty heavy, so I'll take it."

"If that's so, then shouldn't Nuriko take it?"

"Shut up and go grab some herbs to throw in there, Tasuki."

"Well," Miaka handed it over to him, "if you want. I'll do something else for him later."

Chichiri sighed contently. Mitsukake obviously wouldn't eat all the Miaka-sized portions on the tray, so he might get a little something himself.

Mitsukake, meanwhile, swallowed hard. His throat felt like a dry rock in his neck, and his nose was too stuffy for him to sleep without his mouth wide open. Sleep… what a comforting thought. He was about to drift back to it when the door swung back open.

"Room service na no da!"

He wanted to throw another pillow at the new visitor, but that would be impolite of him, so he resisted. "Good morning, Chichiri. How can I… snnff… help you?"

"No, how can I help _you_?" the monk smiled, and Mitsukake noticed the tray he was carrying. "Does soup sound good to you no da?"

"Mmm, actually, it does," he answered. Though reluctant to sit up, he did so in hopes that some hot broth would soothe his throat. Chichiri set the tray down on his lap and handed him a spoon. "Um, Chichiri?"

"Da?"

"Where's the soup?"

"Um… under the fruit?" Chichiri poked at a few pieces. The food was stacked almost up to Mitsukake's chin, and they were both afraid to take items off, for fear that it would all come crashing down. "Miaka loaded it up, no da."

"I see," he sniffled, and caught the fainted whiff of the broth. "You start on that side, and I'll start on this side." The both carefully removed food items in search of a hot bowl, which was most likely at the bottom. The oranges rolling across the floor caught a certain's cat's attention.

Tama-neko felt the need to chase one or two of them across the floor, until another one dropped on his head. He meowed in annoyance, then looked up on the bed to see where it all this heavy balls were coming from. Hoping up lightly enough for neither of the warriors to notice him, he spotted an even bigger, funner looking ball- a cantaloupe.

Slowly and surely, he aimed at his target. Without giving it any warning, he pounced , and found that the large ball moved easily. The other food items gave way and toppled off of either side of the tray, and the cat-covered cantaloupe plunged into the soup Mitsukake had been seeking, splashing it in every direction. Tama-neko's white fur was now a wet shade of brown, and he hissed and ran off the bed. The cantaloupe had won.

Mitsukake and Chichiri didn't escape the splash, either. "Uh… do you still want the soup, no da?"

"No, I think I'll pass."

"Well, at least have some juice no da," Chichiri handed him the cup that was at the corner of the tray, and unharmed by Tama-neko's antics.

"Thank you," Mitsukake closed his eyes, and took a few big gulps. When he opened his eyes back up, though, they were filled with tears, and his previously swollen throat was now burning even more as he started coughing.

"Mitsukake!" the monk yelled and patted his back. He took a peak inside the cup and noticed a few leaves floating in it. "Nuriko and Tasuki put the herbs in the juice?"

He choked out between coughs, "what's in that!"

"They must have thought it was tea…" Chichiri smelled it. "Did they use lemongrass in this?"

"Lemongrass!" he squeaked, while holding his throat.

"I'm sorry, no da," he replied. "I seem to remember you mentioning that you don't like spicy food a while back… and least it's clearing out your nose, no da."

The sick doctor continued to cough and hack as the sensation filled his neck, mouth, and nose. Chichiri fumbled around for some water, which he took graciously, but it only made the burning worse. Without anything else he could do to help, the monk wiped the soup off things as much as he could and picked up the fruit that had rolled in every which direction. "Is there anything else you want right now, no da?"

"N-No," he whimpered. "I'll just get some rest now."

"Sorry, no da," he returned the whimper and backed out of the door with the messy tray in toe. He had lost his appetite in embarrassment, and proceeded to leave the tray in the kitchen.

"Wow," Miaka sweat beaded as she looked at it. "Did you two have a party in there or what?"

"Or what, na no da."

"Okay then," she forced a smile, and ran off to find Tamahome to brainstorm about what they could do to care for their sick friend.


	3. Fevers and Feet

-1"Taa-maa-hoo-mee!" Miaka called down the sunny outdoor walkway before reaching his door.

"Over here, Miaka," he called back. She came in and found him folding some towels.

'Tamahome. You do laundry?" she asked.

"What? No. I mean yes. But these are for Mitsukake."

"Oh really?" she leaned down closer to him. "Why?"

"I remember when I was very little, when my mom was alive… she'd take care of my fevers by rubbing my feet. She said that warming up your feet would suck the fever down there instead of your head."

"How sweet," Miaka felt a warm feeling in her chest as she pictured it. "Then you're going to give Mitsukake a foot massage? Have fun."

"I was kind of hoping you'd help me with that," he set his eyes at half-mast. "I don't want to rub a man's feet, but it's all I can think of. Please don't abandon me."

"Well," she struggled, not all that fond of rubbing grown men's feet either. "How bad could it be?"

Mitsukake's throat was recovering from the spicy shock he had gotten earlier, but his fever was still making his pillow feel too hot to lean against. He turned to the other side, but the friction still felt warm against his cheek. In an effort to find a cold spot, he flipped the pillow over for some relief, which didn't last very long. The trouble with sleeping in with a fever was actually having to sleep with the fever.

"Hey, Mitsukake?" Tamahome knocked as he opened the door slowly. "How're you doing?"

"Fine," he lied.

Miaka peaked out from behind him with a few towels. "How does a foot rub sound?"

A foot rub sounded great at the moment, but a little too embarrassing to accept from them. "No, thank you," he smiled. "But thank you for offering."

"Oh, come now, Mitsukake, don't make us feel useless!" Miaka invited herself in front of his feet and rolled up her sleeves as if she were about to arm wrestle.

"Yeah," Tamahome took a seat next to her at the end of the bed. "We don't mind doing this at all," he fudged and pulled the blanket up to Mitsukake's ankles, to reveal some stentchy feet.

"You really don't have to do this," he reminded them. "I was just going to go to sleep now."

"Then you can take the best nap you've ever had with your feet being rubbed. We're absolutely fine," Miaka said in a concrete tone, although the disgusted look on her face said otherwise.

There was no way to convince them not to do it, so Mitsukake tried to avoid thinking of how stinky his feet must be, and closed his eyes. Within a few moments, they had started rubbing ointment onto his aching soles, and then started talking amongst each other. "Do you think he's asleep now?" Miaka whispered to Tamahome as she started rubbing deeply.

"I hope so," Tamahome whispered back. "That way we don't have to stay here for very long."

He heard everything they said perfectly, but decided it would be best to humor them and pretend to be asleep. After all, he told himself, it's the thought that counts, and not the amount of willpower.

"That's really weird," Miaka half giggled, half complained. "I feel like I'm rubbing a corn husk." The husky-footed man felt a surge of blush hit his cheeks. "Are all men's feet like this, Tamahome?"

"No, of course not. These are really rough. Maybe we should have gotten him new shoes instead," he continued rubbing.

"What about _your _feet, Tamahome?"

"My feet?" he asked in surprise. He had never had a girl ask about that part of him before. "Well, they're not perfect, but-- wait, why are you even asking this?"

"Oh, nothing," she looked away. "It's just that… I might be rubbing your feet someday. You know… like married couples do after a long day."

"Miaka," he stopped rubbing for a moment. Mitsukake felt the urge to kick him so he'd keep going, but refused to show that he was still awake, otherwise they'd all start feeling embarrassed. Tamahome continued, with a little smirk. "Well, if you care that much, I'll start asking Nuriko if I can get pedicures with him."

"It's not a big deal, Tamahome!" she blushed and laughed. "Forget I asked!"

"No, not until I can ask about _your_ feet," he teased. "Any warts? Eew… like that one."

"My feet?" she replied in her usual energetic tone. "They're really soft! Well, a little dirty, but whose aren't? Well, Hotohori's, maybe…"

"I'm not surprised," Tamahome said with a little chuckle. "You start off with a heart as soft as yours, and everything else will be soft, too."

"Tamahome…"

Mitsukake had shared many moments like this with Shouka, but in private. He wasn't very fond of listening to other couples fawn of each other in his presence, but it was even worse while they were at the foot of his bed playing with his toes. His fever started to get even higher as he blushed more.

"Wait, Tamahome, what do you mean, 'everything else will be soft?'"

"Uuuhhh… not those."

"Then… then you like them firm?"

"That's not what I said, Miaka!"

The fever was up and rising, but he couldn't think of any tactful way to chase the two lovebirds out of his room. Think, think, think, he told himself, but nothing good came to mind.

"Meeeow," Tama-neko said, very pleased with having just licked the last of the broth off his fur. It was his little way of taking their attention away from his master's feet.

"Well hi, Tama," Miaka leaned away from the end of the bed to pick him up. "What have you been up to? You're all wet."

"Here, use one of the towels to dry him off," Tamahome handed one to her. She did so, and the cat purred in thankfulness to be clean again (though most people wouldn't consider being covered in one's own saliva very clean). "Do you think we're done here, Miaka?"

"Yeah, his feet should be relaxed by now," she nodded. "We'll just dry the ointment off and then go wash our hands." Mitsukake heard this, and those he was thankful that they were leaving, silently pleaded with them not to use Tama's towel. The feeling of little cat hairs against his skin sent a chill up his spine, but unfortunately, not up to his feverish head.

After rinsing their hands off (thankfully), Miaka returned and put her hand to the doctor's forehead. "Oh no," she said, full of concern.

"What's the matter?" Tamahome asked. "Hasn't his fever gone down?"

"Not at all. He seems hotter than he did this morning," she replied. "I can't imagine why."

They finally left, and Mitsukake immediately sprang up to wipe off his cat-haired foot. Tama-Neko smiled innocently.

Elsewhere, Nuriko was catching up with Miaka on his condition. "A higher fever, huh?" he put a finger to his lips as he thought. "Well, you can't rely on feet for taking care of that.'

"No, I guess not," she sighed.

"Don't worry," he sent her a sassy smile. "We'll take care of it."

"We?"

"Of course. His Majesty's not just going to sit around and be idle while the rest of us help out," he winked. "I'll go let him know now how he's doing."


	4. Royal Treatment

**Author Fangirling:** Awww, your reviews makes me feel so special. Keep 'em coming! There's one more chapter to follow this one, because it would be mean to make Mitsukake have to put up with more than 5 chapters of this treatment.

* * *

"His fever is worse?" Hotohori rose from his seat. "And they tried rubbing his feet to calm it down?"

"Erm, yes," Nuriko answered. "Now would be a good time to go tend to him."

"I do not 'tend', Nuriko. I 'assist'," he corrected him.

Mitsukake rubbed his temples and sniffled. Fortunately no one had been bothering him for a couple hours, but sleep seemed out of his reach now. He eyed Tama-neko, who was curled up in a little sleeping ball at the foot of his bed. _Lucky cat_, he thought.

"Mitsukake? We're coming in," the emperor said from the door before he opened it. Immediately, the healer sat straight up in his company. "Come now, relax. While in the presence of your emperor, you're still in the presence of a friend."

"Very well, then," he plopped back down. He noticed Nuriko enter behind him, carrying a large basin of hot water. "More soup?"

"No, no," Hotohori smiled and pulled out a small cloth to dip into the water. "We're here to bring your fever down."

"Your Highness!" he addressed him. "You don't--"

"Lay back down," he ordered. "You're sick." He did as he was told, and the royal fingers pressed the damp cloth to his forehead. While it did feel relaxing, he couldn't accept that his emperor was being his nurse.

"Please don't, Your Highness," he protested again. "It's not necessary for you to--"

"Are you telling me I'm not able to help?" Hotohori replied in a firm tone. "Just because I've lived in a palace all my life doesn't mean I've never gotten a cold myself. I'm quite capable of pulling my weight and taking care of someone else."

"Of course," Nuriko added. "It would be disrespectful of you to refuse His Majesty's help."

"If that's what you wish," Mitsukake sighed, and tried to relax. Hotohori was very pleased with the answer, and proceeded to dip the cloth back into the basin, but stopped to take a look at it.

"Wh-what, may I ask, is on your forehead?" he examined the cloth.

"Is that… soup broth?" Nuriko took a look at it.

"No wonder I was still feeling so sticky."

Hotohori wasn't sure what to reply to that, so he wrang the cloth out and returned a nice one to his forehead. While his touch did feel very calming, Mitsukake couldn't help but think that this was something people very fond of each of each other would do. A parent and child, a sister and brother, or lovers… perhaps it was an illusion brought on by his high fever, but he pictured Shouka standing behind Hotohori, shaking her fist with jealousy. How silly, he thought, to be envious of the emperor.

His stomach churned as he was reminded that Shouka's fever was far worse than his own. He should have been the one patting a cloth against her head.

"Hey, Mitsukake?" Nuriko said. "I don't think you're going to relax very much with your face furrowed up like that."

"Are you implying that I'm not doing this right, Nuriko?"

"Of course not, Your Highness!" he struggled in defense. "But your royal hands are out of practice. And, if you don't mind, it does require a woman's touch."

"A woman's touch?" Hotohori and Mitsukake both looked blankly at him. He certainly was daring to critique the emperor, but even more daring to still refer to himself as a woman.

"So you're saying you can do better at bringing his fever down?"

"I'm only saying that I'm good at the bed side," he tilted his head to one side. "Among other things, of course."

"Very well," the emperor raised an eyebrow and handed the cloth to Nuriko. "You show me how good you are at this."

"Of course, Your Highness," Nuriko smiled widely and made sure to put a dainty pinky up in the air as he took the cloth. This was an excellent opportunity for him to show Hotohori what a wonderful wife he'd make. After dabbing it back in the steamy water, he returned it to Mistukake's broad forehead, as lightly as he could. "See? Nice and gentle, nice and gentle."

"AAOOOWEHH!" Mitsukake yelled out in pain as his hands rushed to hold his head. "Not that hard!"

"Not that hard?" Nuriko pursed his lips. "I'm barely touching you."

Mitsukake sat up to cradle his head, and Hotohori peaked behind him. "Nuriko, look at the dent in his pillow you made!"

"I-I didn't put that there!" he protested. "It's _his _headprint, so _he_ put it there."

"Not just in his pillow… in the whole mattress!

"Oowww!"

"Mitsukake, are you alright?" Hotohori turned his attention back to the sick (and now injured) man. He received no answer, just continuous yelling. Tama-neko, of course, was awake by now, and started to lick his Master's chin in concern.

"Jeez, I… I didn't mean to!" Nuriko partially accepted his responsibility for the situation. "But it's okay, because Mitsukake can just heal himself, right?"

"How tired out do you want him to get?" Hotohori continued raising his voice over the doctor's moans. "We weren't going to make him use his power at all today, remember?"

"Well then, quick, more hot water," the cross dresser quickly dashed to soak the cloth again, but the combined force of his speed and his brute stength set the basin toppling over onto the bed, all over Mitsukake's lap and the now very grumpy cat sitting in it.

The cat hissed in surprise, and lunged to attack the other two warriors for revenge. Whilst Nuriko run every which way in the room with the angry animal on his arm, screaming about his own pain, Hotohori turned back to his patient. "I'm… very sorry about all of this, Mitsukake. Deeply sorry."

"Don't trouble yourself," he forced a weak smile, which twitched in little spurts of pain. "I feel very… refreshed, now. Just… wet."

"Get it off of me! Egyyaaahh!" Nuriko's scream filled the rest of the room.

"And Tama was due for a good bath, anyway."

"If you insist," Hotohori sweated a little. "I'll sent for a change of sheets and clothes for you right away."

"I would appreciate that, thank you," he sighed. "And a towel. A clean one."

The emperor raised an eyebrow curiously. "Of course it'd be clean… why would you expect… never mind. Take the basin and let's go now, Nuriko." He walked out with his nose high in the hair, and the rest of him following in a dignified manner.

Nuriko, thoroughly scratched up, followed with the loyalty of a dog and carried the empty basin out. "Yeees, Your Highness," he wobbled as he carried it out, muttering something about how he 'will not ask Mitsukake for healing power today, will not ask Mitsukake for healing power today'. The soaked Tama-Neko continued to hiss as he left.

Mitsukake wasn't sure whether to chuckle or sigh. "Nuriko's sure in for it when Hotohori notices that Tama scratched his face, too." It didn't take long for him to hear angry yelling from down the hall, followed by pleading whimpers for mercy.


	5. A Family Cure

**Author Fangirling:** Sorry for a somewhat longer wait on his final chapter. More love to Mistukake! Well, and Chiriko, but I do that all the time. Spread the Mits' love! As awesome as it'd be if you all write your own fanfics for him, I'm just asking for a review. Pretty please? With chicken soupon top?

* * *

The bright sun was finally setting, and the foggy-headed doctor was pleased to settle into his new, clean sheets. Despite getting a surprising shower, his nose still wouldn't let any air through and his throat was a burning lump in his neck. His entire body felt sore, and pleaded with him to sleep, even though his mind was too awake right now.

There was another knock at the door. He was surprised that whoever was behind it this time waited for him to answer before opening it. Tasuki poked his head around, and Chiriko's head poked in under his chin.

"Hello, you two," he smiled, wondering what they had in store for him.

"Hey there," Tasuki smiled widely. "We heard you were sick. Sorry to hear that."

He shrugged. "It happens to everyone at one point or another."

"You bet it does," he answered. "I've got an old family cure that'll clear you up in no time- wanna try it out?"

"I don't know…" he trailed off, recalling how everyone else was trying to help him already.

"I'm also very curious about this 'family cure' of his," Chiriko smiled brightly. Of course, Mitsukake couldn't refuse a little face like that. Besides, Tasuki always acted extremely energetic, so he might be on to something.

"Very well," he agreed. "What do I do?"

The two younger warrior's smiles filled with excitement that he accepted their help. "Okay," Tasuki started. "Sit up straight."

The doctor did as he was told, thinking that that wasn't so bad. "Yes?"

"Check it out, man," Tasuki eyes grew wide. "Mits' has got some serious _abs_."

"Ahh, well…" he blushed. "What do I do next?"

"Oh, right. Take a deep breath. Deeper. All the way from your shoulders to your stomach. Goooood. Hold it right there."

Still not so bad, Mitsukake thought. Good posture and breathing patterns can make anyone feel a little bit more energetic. Chiriko thought the same thing, though knowing Tasuki, was sure there would be an interesting spin on a simple method.

"Now close your eyes, and relax- but still hold that breath," the bandit continued instructing. The doctor wanted to insist that he wouldn't be able to hold it for ever, but kept that thought to himself as he closed his eyes, expecting the next step to be meditation.

Tasuki looked over his broad frame carefully. His muscles were well toned, so finding the right spot was easy. He himself took a deep breath, and then let out a war cry as he thrust his fist into Mistukake's diaphragm.

Niether Mitsukake nor Chiriko expected that at all. As the older man went sailing backwards into his bed with a muffled "oof", the younger boy's mouth dropped in disbelief. "Tasuki! What did you do to him?"

"That's how the cure works," he replied, a little irked to be scolded by a child. "At least, that's how my family always did it."

"You knocked the wind out of him!" he continued in a frantic voice.

"Not to mention some snot," the bandit said. "Like I said, it'd cleared him up right away. Right, Mitsukake?"

Unable to move from his awkward collapsed position, he mustered a few words. "Errrmm… yeah. Much clearer."

"Ha ha! What'd I tell ya?"

Chiriko pursed his lips. "It still looks like you did more harm than good."

"Yeah, well," Tasuki hushed his voice and looked sheepishly at the pile of doctor on the bed. "Well, it was either that or the bandit method."

"Bandit method?" the scholar asked nervously.

"Yeah, back then we'd hang each other from the banister outside by our feet. All the blood would rush to your head, but you'd feel better by the time you could stand up again."

"There's no way we could do that!"

"Well yeah, I'm not stupid! I know I wouldn't be able to dangle 'im long enough for you to tie the knot around his ankles!"

Mitsukake was thankful that they weren't hanging him outside like a piece of underwear, but wouldn't say it. Besides feeling unable to move now, he felt better now that his nose would suck in air again (especially now that he needed so much of it back in his lungs). Listening to people argue was never a treat for him, but he enjoyed seeing how well Chiriko and Tasuki got along. It was rare that the bandit would let someone lecture him. He also felt content seeing Chiriko have so much fun with someone, considering how sensitive he was.

"Say, uh… Mitsukake?" Tasuki asked, a little concerned. "You should be able to sit up now… I didn't hit you _that _hard, right?"

He struggled around to try to bring himself back up, and the two other warriors flocked to his aid. After Mitsukake attained an upright position and panted a bit, Tasuki noticed the dark red patch of skin on his torso, bit his lip and scolded himself for being a little too strong. Of course, he didn't know the half of Nuriko's troubles.

"I'm really, really sorry, Mitsukake," he said sheepishly. "I didn't mean to treat you like just another one of my bandits or anything, but I guess I did."

Chiriko smiled, silently very proud of Tasuki for offering an apology so fast. Mitsukake first recognized that he lost count today of people telling him they were sorry, but smiled as well. "That's alright, Tasuki. That actually helped a lot more than I thought it would, because I feel very clear now. Just a little… sore, too."

"Really?" he looked up. "That's great! I mean, yeah, of course it helped. How's your fever?"

"I've cooled down quite a bit, thank you."

"Nuriko will be glad to hear that. Then Hotohori will stop hounding him," the bandit laughed. "Anything else we can, uh, get you?" Tasuki was doing his best to stay helpful, though he was still very embarrassed about having inflicted harm.

"No, that's alright," Mitsukake chuckled a little, wondering if he'd ever see Tasuki acting this way ever again. "Why don't you go to Nuriko's rescue?"

"Sure- you coming, Chiriko?"

"Hhm? Oh yeah, in just a minute," the young boy smiled, and nodded his friend off. As soon as he was out the door, he spun back around to face Mitsukake, with an intensely concerned face. "Are you really alright, Mitsukake?"

"More or less," he nodded, though with an uncontained expression of pain. "He really did help, though."

"Really?" he sighed with relief. "I'm glad."

"Chiriko," the doctor returned the concern. "You aren't looking so good yourself. Are you coming down with a fever as well?"

"Just a little one," he smiled. "I'll drink some tea and go straight to bed, and I'll have it chased away by morning."

He nodded. "That sounds like it should work. I probably should have done that last night. Still, I'm sure I'll be back on my feet tomorrow morning."

"I'm happy to hear it," the boy smiled, and headed towards the door. "Good night, I hope you sleep well."

Sure enough, he did. His normally strong system picked itself back up, and fought off the last of his grogginess- though he had a big blue imprint of Tasuki's fist by the time he woke up. Mitsukake opened the window to welcome another sunny day, and then got himself ready for breakfast as normal.

When he got to the private dining hall, he found Chiriko already enjoying a quiet breakfast. "Good morning," the boy greeted him. "Feeling better?"

"Much better, and you? Did you chase that fever away?" he asked, and was met by an enthusiastic nod of the head. The healer looked around, but found no one else around. "Where did everyone go?"

"It seems as though I wasn't the only one getting a fever last night," Chiriko replied with a smirk, finding the situation a tad amusing.

Mitsukake's eyes grew wide. "You mean that they all…?"

"Every one of them. They're all in bed right now, complaining about how stiff and stuffy they're feeling."

The doctor sighed, though couldn't help but be amused as well. He really appreciated how everyone tried to take care of him, but there was no way they could have the same touch as he did. It was a subtle reminder that he was needed, and he diligently left his breakfast to go do what he did best.

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